


Phenomenal

by palavreado



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Carnivalstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-24
Updated: 2011-10-24
Packaged: 2017-10-24 22:32:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palavreado/pseuds/palavreado
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You decide to visit a Carnival.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phenomenal

**Author's Note:**

> A fic I wrote ages ago for draedelion (on tumblr)'s Carnivalstuck AU. Posting it here, no, kthanks.

You’re currently holding in your hand a ticket for the famous carnival currently in town. Why you’ve suddenly arranged some time in your assumedly busy schedule is of no importance or value, you simply did. Maybe you got recommended by your friends; maybe you just happened to see a flyer drifting around town. It’s really not a big matter.

You stare at the ticket which reads “ _Cirque du Veil_ ” with mild interest. Truth be told, you don’t expect much. You’ve heard it has few people and the space they found was rather small, but you shrug it off and walk to the address shown on the colourful flyers and tickets.

You’re pleasantly surprised with what you see.

The entrance gate is merely a delicately painted sign saying “ _Cirque du Veil_ ” with an arrow pointing towards the direction and you honestly half expect the entire carnival to be a one-man band ripping people off their money, but what you expect is far from what you get. The first thing you notice is that the “small space” you imagined is actually huge. You’re not sure if it’s an optical illusion, or if you just had very low expectations, but it’s big, loud and not too full that you can’t walk around comfortably. In fact, the whole place seems to ooze comfort and you feel a bubbly, childish happiness at first glance.

You don’t, however, have a chance to take it all in, because a clown with a huge smile is ushering you in. He gives you a balloon, not even stopping to consider your age, and smiles, finally leaving you to your own devices. You keep the balloon. It’s a nice colour.

You decide to explore the games, first. You examine your options. Not even five metres away, you see a woman tapping lightly with her cane on a boy’s head and laughing. She’s motioning to her ring-toss booth and saying something you don’t quite catch and the boy is arguing heatedly. The booth is crowding up with the commotion, but the keeper doesn’t seem to notice or care. Can’t she _see_ how many people are lining up? You turn to another booth, but this one doesn’t seem any less crowded. It’s simply a large tank with a target next to it. Above the tank, a young woman dressed as a mermaid is smiling, and judging by the state of her hair, the people who frequent this carnival have some really good aim. Next to the tank a taller man seems to be both bringing in the crowd and casually flirting with the lady at the same time. The lady seems to be getting a bit uncomfortable, though it only shows a little, and you look for another booth to try your luck at.

Your gaze lands on a shooting gallery, not too far from where you’ve been standing awkwardly for the past two minutes and you decide to give it a shot. Literally. The girl in charge greets you, smiling, and hands you a rifle. You examine the rifle, which seems oddly realistic, until you realize it probably is and they just replaced bullets with coloured plastic balls and decreased the pressure in the gun. The booth keeper holds your balloon (why haven’t you let go of it, yet?) and you shoot thrice. Only two of the shots actually hit something, but she whistles, smiles and gives you a small squid plush. It’s quite cute and you pocket it. She also hands you back your balloon, which you’ve decided to keep, if just to fit in with the mood. The sound of loud laughter makes you turn around and you spot a carousel. It’s not that small, so you wonder how you missed it. It’s bright and colourful, like the rest of the circus and some kids are playing around with the horses, pretending to be knights and princesses. You inevitably smile. The person taking care of the carousel, a man in a bright red tailcoat catches you smiling and he smiles back, waving. You walk away grinning from ear to ear. The man in the tailcoat just seems to ooze happiness. You’re now looking for another booth you can try out and your gaze drifts to the Wheel of Fortune. It’s not exactly a skill or game booth, but it seems fun, anyway. You get closer, however, and notice the booth keeper is eyeing the prizes suspiciously. It’s quite comical, actually. You’re pretty sure his face would be absolutely stoic if it weren’t for his eyes and the nervous expression they bore. You look at the prizes yourself and don’t really seem to notice anything strange; just plush smuppets with large assets and wooden puppets with glazed eyes. In fact, you find them endearing.

Until one of them moves.

You’re very certain of your mental sanity and you know what you saw, so you walk away briskly, trying not to look back. Those glazed, blue eyes will haunt your memory forever.  Finally, you settle for something a bit safer; the strength test. Of course, you forget you’ve never been one for working out and the booth keeper looks like he could easily break you apart like a toothpick, so you humiliate yourself when your hammer’s mighty blow only makes it halfway across the strength chart. The muscled booth keeper hands you back your pretty balloon and you verify, with half satisfaction and half dismay, that you’ve already looked through all the contest booths. You try and explore the rest of the carnival and pass a group of children, their faces painted with beautiful coloured swirls and patterns. You look in the direction they’re coming from and spot a pretty lady painting faces. Her own face is painted so that it looks like she has vampire fangs and you stop and admire her handiwork. To the left is another, larger tent and when you squint and take a peek inside you can see a variety of animals. The kids seem to be jumping around from the petting zoo, to the face painting, to… is that a mirror maze? Why yes, it’s a mirror maze. Children are screaming and laughing as they go from one to the other. Clever, you think, setting those tents up next to each other.

You’re smiling again. You realize you’ve been doing that a lot since you arrived. The balloon is still clenched between your fingers and you have no intentions of letting it go so soon. The sky is changing its tint to a subtle orange now and the boys (twins, you think, surprised) running the mirror maze are politely shooing the running kids and closing things up. You figure you have time for one more thing before the show starts and look around again, for something you haven’t done yet, and you see it. Way back in a corner, almost hidden from sight is a single tent. It’s different from the others, somehow. Not only because it’s smaller, but because it has a more delicate feel to the fabric and the ornaments. Your curiosity piqued, you walk there and tentatively open the curtained flaps that serve as doors. What you see is a woman, absently playing with some cards as she stares at you, a mix of expectation and amusement. She dares you to enter with only her stare and you do, carefully sitting down on one of the many cushioned pillows in different shades of blue and orange. She lights a candle, perhaps to build atmosphere, perhaps because it’s getting dark, and asks you your name.

You tell her.

She spends the next few seconds staring. Not at you, though. At the spherical crystal ornament set neatly on the table that separates you from her. Finally, she breathes in, pauses dramatically and begins to tell you your future. It’s filled with grief, she says, but the suffering will be rewarded eventually. She tells you about people you’ll meet and things you’ll do, but in the end, you feel like she hasn’t said a thing. You ask her for more details, a bit frustrated, but she smiles her toothy grin and tells you no good fortune teller is ever direct. You fumble around in your pocket for some spare change and she takes it, still smiling. You walk out the tent unable to decide whether she did a good or bad job. You can barely see the Sun setting now (how long did you spend in that tent, anyway?) and you hastily make way to the grand tent set up right in the middle of the Carnival. At the entrance, a grumpy man in suspenders is selling popcorn and you buy some, balancing it awkwardly with your balloon. The popcorn vendor, clearly tired of looking at you struggle to keep both the balloon and the popcorn intact mumbles a flurry of colourful words and tell you to tie the balloon to your wrist and get in the tent, already. You do what he says (why didn’t you think of that?) and find a comfortable spot in the middle of the bleachers. All you have to do now is wait.

 And you don’t wait long, because the bleachers crowd up and the audience sits down and the lights all go off. All of them but one, in the centre of the ring, where the same man in the red coat, the one with the carousel, begins the introduction. You’re listening, but not really paying attention. You know what he’s going to say already. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls”, he begins enthusiastically. Well, what did you expect? It’s a Circus, after all, the introductions are all the same.

You’re caught up in your ramblings when the switches cut short and the lights flicker out. You stiffen a gasp, but the people next to you aren’t as discreet and you hear hushed whispers of confusion. Then, the centre light flickers on again and instead of the gentleman in the top hat you find yourself looking at a clown. The same one that gave you the balloon. He doesn’t have his accordion or his colourful clothes, only a pair of suspenders and a purple shirt. You look closer and see his makeup changed to something more ominous; a skull, finely painted, most likely by the lady with the vampire fangs. You don’t have time to examine any more than that, because as quickly as the clown appears, he disappears as the lights go out once more. In only a few seconds, though, the lights go on again, and the clown is still there, but standing on either side of him are the twins from the mirror maze, with the same makeup. They start moving, slowly, you can hear soft music from the back of the tent somewhere and are too mesmerized to search for its source, so you continue to stare as they walk away from the centre of the ring and towards its edges, each on one side.

And then, without warning, there’s a sudden change in the music, the lighting gets brighter and the clowns smile broadly, pirouetting backwards through the air. The music is now light and happy and the crowd gasps and cheers, astonished. The clowns end in a pyramidal formation and the music stops as abruptly as it started, but before the audience can even begin to clap, a new song comes up, sudden and fast. You use your small knowledge of music to determine it’s “Flight of the Bumblebee” and the rhythm couldn’t be more appropriate. The three clowns jump and twirl, doing fantastic stunts in midair. They play with unicycles and horns and juggle with up to six balls and clubs. Then, the purple-clad clown jumps forward until he’s face to face with the audience and stands on the barriers separating the bleachers from the ring. He bows, but pretends to fall and tries to regain his balance goofily, while the children burst out laughing. The twins pretend to aid him, but only push him off the stage, laughing as he falls face first on the floor. He gets up quickly and shakes his fist in over-the-top anger and goes around the audience, with exasperated cries of “did you see what they just did?!”, making the audience roar with laughter. The music changes again, to “Entry of The Gladiators” and the purple clown goes back to the ring and chases the twins around, jumping, falling and flying through the air. You stifle a chuckle yourself, but fail miserably and end up bursting into laughter. The music finally stops completely and the three clowns go back to the centre of the ring and bow, receiving a roar of applause. Still chuckling, you shift to the edge of your seat to get a better glimpse of what’s coming up next. The lights go out again and when they turn back on the massive man at the strength test booth and a short lady you vaguely remember from the tent with the animals are in the middle of the ring. The music starts and it’s mostly drum-based as the man proceeds to lift the girl in the air and throw her as if she weighed nothing at all. The girl, in turn, does pirouettes and summersaults all while in midair and the crowd gawks. The man who sold popcorn, along with the clown from the previous act and the blonde booth keeper at the Wheel of Fortune discretely lug in a heavy-looking weight, maybe the size of a stout person to the ring. The strong man sets the girl with the stubby horns previously flying through the air down and prepares himself to lift up the weight. The crowd tenses with him as he grips it with both hands and lifts it, droplets of sweat rolling down his forehead. When the weight is finally hoisted fully into the air the crowd cheers enthusiastically, but they stop when they see what’s happening next. You gawk in sheer astonishment as the man frees one of his hands from the weight, shifting the pressure to his right hand alone and picks up the girl with his left arm. The girl climbs until she’s balancing precariously on his hand and bows, receiving another roar of cheers from the spectators. Finally, the weight gets far too unbearable and the man drops it, his face dripping with sweat. He smiles, links hands with the girl and they both bow and leave, the lights turning off and the music stopping again, the crowd erupting in cheers in front of them.

When the applauses finally dim down, the next act appears, surrounded by a thick cloud of pink and purple smoke. The cloud clears off and in the centre of the ring are two sea-dwelling trolls, the same ones from the mermaid dunking game. The man has a black suit with subtle hints of purple and the lady has a beautiful tyrian purple dress. The music starts smooth and they move, walking around the ring, the man producing doves, flowers and a plethora of other assorted magician items. As the music grows faster the tricks grew more exuberant. Cards are thrown into the air and disappear and rabbits come out of hats, and then everything stops. The popcorn man rolls in a giant tank of water and the music grows tenser. The assistant smiles, walks to the centre of the ring and lets herself be tied up and carried to the platform mounted above the tank. The magician builds up the atmosphere with every movement, even though he doesn’t really say anything and you’re on the edge of your seat, again, and it happens. The girl plunges into the tank and gives a reassuring wink to the audience as it’s covered with a black drape. The magician whirls the tank around, making sure to point out that there are no tricks or trap doors and everything grows silent. The magician waves his hands and taps his wand on the tank and the black drape is released, revealing a completely empty tank. There’s utter silence in the bleachers before the audience cheers euphorically and the magician bows, rolling his tank away from the ring.

Lights switch out, lights switch on, and the ring is now occupied by the short lady troll in the ring-toss booth. She’s blindfolded and holding in both hands a variety of sharp knives. To her left another figure appears (popcorn man) and yet another, the guy from the Wheel of Fortune) rolling in a giant target. The blond man straps an apprehensive looking popcorn vendor to the target and the entire audience clings to their seat as they realize what’s happening next. The girl in the middle of the ring grins widely and popcorn man’s expression transforms from apprehension to terror as the first knife is lunged at him, only barely hitting his side. One after the other, the knives are thrown in an almost careless manner, the last one making a distinct hole right above the poor man’s head. The lady bows and rolls her assistant, still stuck to the target, out of the ring, in front of the shocked crowd. There isn’t any time for you to recover your breath or even clap a bit, because the music for the next act starts playing. It’s a happy song, very lively and cheerful and you feel yourself relaxing back in your chair, chewing on a mouthful of popcorn. The song is mostly drums and trumpets and a troll with wide horns and a slightly limp comes in leading a parade of two horses, a tiger, a lion, and an elephant. Following behind was also the same girl from the act with the strong man and another girl, in bright costumes. The animals prance around with the man skilfully leading them and the girls jumping from horse to horse, and after all the previous excitement you’re happy something so light and fluffy is scheduled as an act. The performers finish with the man motioning for the animals to each take a bow and waves endearingly as he leads the zoo away, riding the elephant. Only the two girls remain and they stand perfectly still, as if waiting for something.

And that something (someone) is none other than the purple clown. The crowd cheers as they recognize him. The girls take the cue and jump towards him, linking hands and moving as one. They twist and contort is all kinds of different shapes. Pyramids, human ladders, snakes, wheels that roll around the stage. They finish the act with an inverse pyramid, the two girls on top and they summersault backwards, much to the audience’s delight as they cheer. The three contortionists smile and bow together, disappearing as the lights go out again.

When the spotlights come back on, however, there is nobody on stage. The ring is completely deserted and you see people exchange confused glances, until the spotlights flicker intermittently on and off and point upwards, where a long silk fabric comes flowing down, along with two women. Never touching the ground, they begin their performance. Their movements are in perfect tandem, flowing rhythmically with the soft flute sounds that are now playing. They never miss a beat and you stare with your chin dropped as the movements become more erratic and they fly around the ring, almost crossing the short barriers that divided the bleachers from the main stage. The music becomes gradually slower, though, and they halt to a stop, finally daring to touch the ground. Once again, the audience goes crazy, and the two women disappear as the lights turn off again.

The audience waits in silence for the lights to go on and reveal the next act, but it never happens. You figure the show is probably over and they’re just getting everyone ready for line up, so you almost spit the popcorn you were idly chewing on when a huge flame bursts out of nowhere and two red-clad figures jump into the ring. The blond man from before, now wearing a blindfold and a long-haired woman with torches in their hands. They start the act separately, the man swallowing balls of fire and breathing them out with a cool easiness to it all, and the woman twirling the torches around in a beautiful, but rapid dance, and as the act progresses, they unite, both twirling and twisting their fire batons as if waltzing in their own way. The waltz becomes a tango as their movements grow faster and you can barely see them at all, just flying lines of light and fire making swirls and patterns through the air. They join together and fling the torches around even faster, making a rapid flame whirlpool around them. The whirlpool gets bigger and faster by the second until both performers throw their torches to the sandy ground, putting them out in mere instants.

Because there were no lights to begin with, the tent plunges into darkness again and the sudden burst of applause is deafening. All the lights are back on now, not just the centre ones and the ringmaster is back on stage, tipping his hat and excusing himself for being so “rudely interrupted”. The audience laughs and the performers flood the ring from both left and right, all getting an introduction from the ringmaster and a loud hand of applause. By the end of it all not a single person in the tent is sitting down, not even you. The performers are getting a standing ovation that lasts a good five minutes before the ringmaster tells you all to settle down and thanks you for being such a wonderful crowd. You linger in the bleachers for a while longer, along with a handful of other people either complimenting each performer individually or just casually striking up a conversation. Out of the corner of your eye you can see the fortune teller from earlier sitting in the back and smiling, almost fondly. You get up, deciding it’s time to go home, even though you really don’t want the night to end. You notice, a bit surprised that the balloon is still firmly attached to your wrist and you untie it as you step outside.

The night air is cool, and the breeze is fresh against your face. Slowly, you let go of the colourful balloon and it soars into the air, mixing itself with the bright night start, you smile and glance back to the Carnival one last time before staring at the balloon again, just floating away, and you can’t help but think that it looks…

Phenomenal.


End file.
